He had only to look across the floor of the House, and
he could see the pallid face of that mighty statesman who lives so high
in the hearts and affections of the people whom Mr. Sexton represents,
and who at that moment was in his hour of agony, if not of final and
irretrievable ruin. Behind the Prime Minister were other men--equally
eager to hear what he had to say--that sturdy band of Radicals, mostly
from Scotland, who only wanted the word to desert their own leader and
follow the guidance of the Irish members. And behind Mr. Sexton was the
grimmest enemy of all--the men from his own country, who were resolved,
on this occasion, to push the demand of Ireland to the extreme point,
and who held that he would betray the Irish cause if he backed, not
them, but Mr. Gladstone and the British Government.
[Sidenote: And takes the lead.]
It required all the dexterity, all the coolness, all the splendid
equanimity and courage of the man of genius at such a fateful hour to
keep his head. Mr. Sexton was equal to the occasion. He spoke slowly,
and there was a hush in the House to catch his every syllable, for his
words were the harbingers of fate.
Pages:
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368